


30 Days of OTP - Bering and Wells

by kathryne



Series: 30 Days of OTP - Bering and Wells [1]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathryne/pseuds/kathryne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the shorter Bering and Wells vignettes written for the 30 Days of OTP challenge on tumblr (the more-or-less complete <a href="http://sapphoshands.tumblr.com/post/42856673999/30daysotp">prompts list can be found here</a>).  Rating and warning may be updated as more are posted.  The longer responses are their own stories and are attached to this in a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Place

**Author's Note:**

> "Happy Place"  
> Prompt #10: With animal ears.

The weight of the hat was barely noticeable as it settled on her head, but Myka fell to her knees as if she'd been struck. She could hear _everything_.

She was surrounded by screaming children: their shrill voices arrowed through her skull, bursting painfully behind her eyes. She curled into the fetal position, hands over her ears in a futile attempt to block the noise. The hat fell from her head, landing with a resounding thud; a hand whistled past and swept it off the ground before feet pounded away. Machinery roared; stressed metal squealed, sounding like it was right next to Myka's ear. She whimpered. Even that sound was too much, reverberating through her eardrums.

More feet thumped up and shuffled to a stop, surrounding her. "Myka!" Pete and Claudia said in unison.

Myka screwed her eyes shut and curled up tighter.

"The ears," Helena said, her voice pitched low. "It must be." Fabric rustled as she sank to the ground, and Myka felt herself being shifted until her head was cushioned by something soft. "Go," Helena breathed. "I'll take care of her."

The feet moved off. "How're we gonna find one kid in _this_?" Pete asked loudly. Claudia shushed him and Myka winced as the sibilance scraped raw nerves. She pressed shamelessly closer to Helena in an attempt to block out the noise that surrounded them.

Helena bent nearly double, arms wrapping around Myka and holding her in place. She didn't say a word, using her own body to cushion Myka. Myka could hear Helena's heart pounding in her chest; she focused on the sound, trying to drown out the rest of the tumult. 

Helena's breath hummed in and out of her lungs. Myka fancied she could hear even the blood moving in Helena's veins. She buried her head in Helena's stomach and tried to calm her breathing to the rhythm of Helena's. Helena stroked Myka's back soothingly, drawing gentle patterns over her shirt, and slowly, slowly, the unbearable noise receded.

And then, suddenly, Myka's ears throbbed with pressure; she swallowed, and with a nearly soundless _pop_ her hyper-sensitivity disappeared.

She pulled back slowly, unwilling to give up Helena's protection. As Myka moved, the pain in her head decreased, until she sat fully upright. She took a deep breath and smiled shakily.

"Better?" Helena mouthed, looking at Myka worriedly.

"Better," Myka said in a normal voice.

Helena relaxed noticeably. "I'm not certain what two circles on top of a hat have to do with enhanced hearing, but regardless, that was quite worrying." She smoothed a strand of Myka's hair back into place.

Myka felt herself blush; she shifted back, putting a little space between her and the memory of Helena's warmth surrounding her. "It's a long story. Um. I hope Pete and Claud didn't have to tesla that kid to stop him," she said, looking around just in time to see Claudia come loping up to them.

"Are you okay?" Claudia said in a loud whisper. "Sorry we took so long, this place is a maze. Pete's turning the kid over to park security, I just came back to make sure we grabbed the right pair – so you're okay?"

Myka ran a hand over her hair and nodded. "Oh, thank god," Claudia said. "You have nooo idea how hard it is to find a single pair of Mickey ears in this crowd. Bad scene. Mouse ears." She snorted. "Who knew they were so sensitive."

"I do now." Myka stood carefully and looked around. The kids yelling, the rattle of the rides, and the general cacophony sounded practically magical now that everything wasn't actually painful to listen to.

Pete jogged over, grinning widely and waving an artifact bag over his head. The unmistakable shape of the famous mouse ears was clear inside it. "Hey, we should get you a real pair of these, you know, because of the song," he said, taking a deep breath. "Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me – M-Y-K, A-O-B, E-R-I-N-G – whoa!"

Myka had doubled over again, wincing.

"Oh, shit, Mykes, is it not working? Did I bag the wrong one?" Pete hovered anxiously, ready to run back into the park.

Myka straightened up and punched him in the arm. "No, but your singing voice is just that bad," she said, grinning.

Pete rolled his eyes. "Sor- _ry_."

"Okay!" Claudia said loudly. "Can we go back to the _real_ happiest place on earth now?"

"Claudia, darling, we do need to work on your sense of priorities." Helena placed a hand at the small of Myka's back. They turned and walked through Fantasyland, Claudia and Pete bickering about Hidden Mickeys in front of them. Pete wouldn't stop whistling the theme tune, but Myka ignored him in favour of watching Helena watch the crowds.

As they left the park, Helena leaned close. "You will explain this to me later?"

Myka smiled. "Well," she said honestly, "I'll try."


	2. Better Than

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Better Than."  
> Prompt #13: Eating ice cream.

"Okay, quick, come on." Myka peered around the corner, waving Helena forward.

Amused, Helena slid up behind her, peeking over her shoulder. "Are you certain the coast's clear?" she purred, smirking as Myka jumped slightly. "Really, darling," she continued, "is all this necessary just to go out for a snack?"

Myka whirled and slapped a hand over Helena's mouth. "Quiet," she whispered. 

Helena arched her eyebrows. Her lips moved against Myka's palm as she smiled.

Myka jerked her hand back. "Sorry," she said, blushing. "Just – don't talk so loud, okay?"

"As you wish," Helena said, following Myka outside obediently. It wasn't until they were in Myka's car with the engine running that Myka relaxed.

"Sorry," she said again, fiddling with the vents until they were blowing warmish air on the frosted windows. "It's just that I swear Pete has some sort of radar whenever anyone mentions food. I didn't want him to invite himself along."

"Ah, is this a private outing, then?" Helena asked, as casually as possible.

She expected more blushing, even some stammering, but instead Myka just smiled. "Nah," she said, sliding the car into gear and craning to look over her shoulder. "I don't think anyone should be exposed to Pete on a sugar high, though. On humanitarian grounds." She winked at Helena and pulled out onto the road.

Helena turned to look out the window, hiding her own, entirely unexpected blush. The weak sun glinted off wide, snow-covered fields; Helena pressed her hand to the glass, watching the endless farmlands unfurl. The size of the country had ceased to register years ago, but the speed with which it was possible to travel never failed to amaze her.

When they eventually pulled to a stop, Helena looked at the shop in front of them, then turned to Myka. "You... do realize that it's barely above freezing," she said pointedly.

"Perfect ice cream weather." Myka beamed. She switched off the engine and pulled a fluffy white hat down over her curls. "If we walk fast enough you won't even feel the cold." She bounded out of the car.

Helena sighed, tugging her scarf up higher before following Myka into the shop. 

Myka was already poring over one end of the vast display counter, but she tugged Helena to the other end. "I'm having the frozen yogurt, but you should absolutely have some of the real ice cream. It's much creamier, well, obviously – unless you want the frozen yogurt, which is also pretty good, but, really, everything here is great. I'll... let you look." 

She turned to the assistant and ordered in a quiet voice, leaving Helena to examine the seemingly endless selection of ice cream types, many of which came in colours that Helena was certain couldn't possibly be natural. She finally chose one that claimed to be lemon meringue, which was at least recognizable, and they left the shop with cones in hand.

The air was cool, but the tangy ice cream was refreshing and the chance to stretch her legs outside of the Warehouse invigorating. Yet despite the blue sky and the charming surroundings, Helena found herself on edge. Cars raced past as they walked along the street filled her ears, drowning out Myka's voice. The air, so crisp a moment ago, seemed to sour, the taste of pollution coating Helena's tongue. Lights flashed and tall posts crossed with wires blocked out the sky, looming impossibly large. All the progress of the past century crowded in on her and her thoughts turned inward.

The exposure to ice cream inevitably reminded her of Christina: the constant battles when Helena refused to let her daughter eat the slop the hokey-pokey carts sold, the joy on Christina's face when Helena relented and allowed the cook to serve ices for pudding. Helena swallowed past the tightening of her throat as memory threatened to choke her. 

Another car whipped past, brakes screeching, and anger swelled within her. Even something so simple as ice cream was tainted, now. To wipe this diseased world clean and allow it to start over – it would be an act of mercy.

"Helena?" Myka's clear voice cut through the cacophony.

"Yes, darling?" Helena smiled, automatically hiding her anger.

"I said, is it all right?" Myka nodded at the cone Helena still held, only half-finished. "Do you like it?"

"Oh." Helena looked at the cone herself, then took a bite despite the knots in her stomach. "Yes, it's lovely. Quite a change from what I'm used to, believe me." She laughed, the notes ringing false to her own ears.

Myka's face fell, and Helena panicked momentarily, wondering whether her façade had cracked.

"So you – you've had ice cream?" Myka said softly. "I didn't know it was around... before."

"Why, yes, though this is very different," Helena said. She took another bite, surprised to find herself savouring it. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, I just, I thought – never mind, it was stupid," Myka mumbled.

"Myka, no. Do tell me," Helena urged, placing a hand lightly on Myka's arm.

Myka shrugged and refused to meet Helena's eyes. "I thought it would be something new," she said helplessly. "You know, because – you're here now, and you missed a lot, but it's not _all_ stuff you can learn by reading books. I wanted to share something like that with you. I wanted to give you something new."

Helena stood for a moment, frozen and speechless, before she smiled, quite involuntarily. "Oh, Myka," she said softly. The whirl of modern life dropped away as she cupped Myka's cheek, forcing Myka to look at her. "Thank you."

"For what?" Myka said, wrinkling her nose. "It wasn't anything new after all."

"Yes," Helena disagreed, thumb caressing Myka's cheekbone. "It was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For educational purposes: [this charming video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13HlnYJUu08) I discovered in the course of researching this piece. Everything you ever wanted to know about Victorian ice cream.


	3. Night Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Night Terrors."  
> Prompt #2: Cuddling somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place mid-2.11, "Buried."

Myka taps on Helena's door softly enough that Helena can pretend she hasn't heard if she wants to be alone. The silence stretches for so long that Myka thinks that must be the case; she's turning to go when she finally hears Helena's quiet "Come in."

One step inside and Myka closes the door, shutting out the rest of the B&B. Helena looks calm, sitting on her bed next to a neatly packed suitcase, yet the atmosphere in the room immediately sets Myka's senses on high alert. It could just be the tension she felt earlier, but something more troubling is there too, just below the surface, and Myka can't quite figure it out. Helena is looking at her curiously, though, and Myka shifts.

"I was just getting ready for bed, and I thought you might want some company," she says, aiming for a neutral tone. It's never that easy, though, not with Helena: all she does is tilt her head and Myka can't help but blurt out the rest of her thoughts. "Okay, I saw you at John's house, with his sister. You were really good with her - of course you were - but I could see it... I knew you must have been thinking of Christina." She shrugs and swallows, clasping her hands together. "So I thought maybe you'd want to, I don't know, talk about it before we went running off trying to find another Warehouse?"

Myka kicks herself mentally for turning what she meant to be a statement into a question, but Helena's face twists and then softens as she holds out a welcoming hand. Myka takes it and lets Helena draw her closer, until she's standing in front of the bed, cradling Helena's head against her belly. Helena's arms loop around Myka's back. 

"I don't want to talk about it," she says, though her words lack their usual strength. "But if you could - if you would stay, I'd like that very much." They stand twined together for a long moment, until Helena leans back with a shaky sigh.

Myka keeps their chat light as Helena folds a last few things into her bag before getting ready for bed. It's not until they're both under the covers, Helena's head nestled onto Myka's shoulder, that Myka braves the topic again. 

"Gabby was just Christina's age, wasn't she?" Myka feels Helena stiffen, muscles clenching as if awaiting a blow, but she continues anyways; she's convinced that the wound will never heal if she doesn't make Helena confront it. "She liked you very much."

"That merely demonstrates her poor judgment," Helena says darkly. She trembles in Myka's arms. "If she had known better, she would never have spoken to me."

"Helena!" Myka tightens her grip, trying to draw the other woman as close as possible. "Why would you - "

"Myka." Helena rolls away, putting as much distance between them as she can. "You saw how much she loved her brother, and I - and we brought the news of his death. And now her life too will never be the same." She curls in on herself, miserable; her voice is thick with tears, but she clearly doesn't want false comfort. "If I could undo it, I would."

Myka lets her hand float in the air for a moment before she rests it tentatively on Helena's shoulder. Helena doesn't throw it off; Myka moves closer, spooning around her. "Helena, you can't bring him back, but that doesn't mean there's nothing to be done," she says soothingly. "That's why we have to go to Egypt and figure out what the hell was going on there. We can't give Gabby her brother back, but maybe we can find out why he died, and that will help."

Helena sobs once before burying her face in her hands. "What kind of life is she going to have, Myka?" she asks, voice torn. "Always knowing something's missing, never able to fill that void? No, knowledge is no substitute. She will suffer for the rest of her life."

Myka swallows back tears of her own at the raw grief in Helena's voice. "You don't mean that," she says with more assurance than she feels. "I know you're angry, but Helena, you're not..." You're not that broken, she wants to say, and doesn't. "You're not seeing clearly," she says at last. "She will be all right. And so will you. After we get back from Egypt, everything will be better, I know it will."

Helena laughs bitterly, but scrubs the heels of her hands over her eyes, roughly wiping away tear tracks. She turns over, burrowing back into Myka's embrace and clinging to her with desperate strength. "You're right, of course," she says tonelessly. Taking a deep breath, she relaxes against Myka. "After Egypt, things will get better. After Egypt," she repeats, as if trying to convince herself. Slowly her breathing steadies and fades into sleep.

Myka lies awake for most of the night, keeping watch against nightmares and wondering what else she can do. When they wake, Helena's face shows no sign of the night's ravages. She smiles, if wanly, and kisses Myka good morning. Myka kisses her back and hopes that maybe, just maybe, they can keep the demons at bay.


	4. Processing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Processing."  
> Prompt #5: Kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after 2.10, "Where and When."
> 
> (yep, still posting these, and still [looking for prompts](http://sapphoshands.tumblr.com/post/42856673999/30daysotp)! aiming to have them done before Warehouse comes back...)

It was long past the time when the bed and breakfast usually went quiet, but Helena could still hear Myka pacing around in her room.

Even after so few days at Leena's, Helena was already aware of the myriad noises that made up its normal nighttime routine. Pete's snoring, Claudia's so-called music, and the soft sounds of the countryside outdoors had become almost comforting more quickly than she could have imagined. From Myka's room, though, rarely came much noise, save that made by her hyperactive ferret. Yet tonight, Helena could hear Myka's restless steps, could even, she fancied, hear the occasional sigh of dismay.

She hovered briefly outside Myka's room, reluctant to intrude, but the soft sounds finally decided her. What if, she thought, using the time machine had in fact had some unpleasant consequence? Never mind that Pete could be heard sleeping the sleep of the just from several rooms away; the idea that Myka could be in distress made Helena quite uncomfortable. Taking a breath, she knocked on the door.

It cracked open after a moment and Myka peered out. Seeing Helena, she swung it wide, running a hand over her face and through her hair and attempting to compose herself. "What?" she asked thickly. "Is something wrong?" She drew herself straight, aiming for a professional demeanour, but it was obvious to Helena's eyes that she was troubled.

"That's just what I was wondering, darling," Helena said, slipping through the door. Her gaze flitted around the room, taking in the signs of Myka's preoccupation. Books lay discarded midway, spines cracked; Myka's plush bear sat in a chair next to a cup of tea gone cold. Most distressingly, Myka's service weapon was disassembled and half-cleaned on her bedspread. Helena's stomach clenched, though she took care not to show the concern that she felt.

Putting a cheery smile on her face, she turned to Myka. "I was passing by and could hear that you were still awake," she said disingenuously. "I thought perhaps you'd like some company."

Myka flushed. "Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, I didn't know you could hear me," she said. "I'll try to be quieter, I didn't mean to keep you up - " Her eyes flickered towards the bed and she twitched, noticing the gun as if she'd forgotten it was there. She turned an even deeper shade of pink as she scurried over to the bed and tidied the pieces hurriedly back into its storage box. "Sorry," she said again.

Helena stepped up beside her and took the box. Laying it aside on the bedside table, she grasped Myka's hands and sat down on the bedspread. Myka sagged down next to her, unresisting.

"Myka," Helena said softly. "Something is wrong, isn't it? You can tell me. If you want," she added, conscious of the fact that she had no reason to believe Myka would trust her.

"It's nothing, just..." Myka's eyes darted towards the gun box, then dropped to their joined hands. Helena felt her fingers tremble and she sighed. "Today, when we were in the past," she started, pausing to acknowledge the absurdity of the phrase.

Helena smiled gently, urging her on.

Myka tightened her grip on Helena's hands. "Um, you heard our report, right? What happened when we found the knife?"

"Yes?" Helena blinked. "You retrieved the artefact, cleared Jonah Raitt's name, and made that film?"

"Right. And Beth Raitt died." Myka swallowed.

"Oh? Oh, yes, she stabbed herself on the knife, didn't she? Bit of poetic irony there." Helena's joke fell flat and she glanced at Myka's drawn face. "Myka, the woman killed three others. Surely you're not mourning her."

"Not - not quite. But it was - we were... fighting. For the knife. When she was stabbed." Myka bit her lip, looking everywhere but at Helena.

Helena registered Myka's use of the passive voice and tightened her grip, forcing Myka to meet her eyes.

"I didn't - I don't think I did it," Myka blurted, as if worried Helena would judge her. "But it was, I mean, it was an agent-assisted stabbing, I guess."

"In self-defense!" Helena protested. "She had already tried to kill Pete. And surely it's not..." She trailed off, uncertain whether to finish the sentence.

"Not the first time I killed somebody on the job?" Myka said bitterly. "It's not. I've had to shoot a few people, in D.C. and... before... and one of them died. But that doesn't make it any better. And it doesn't mean I should get used to it."

She paused, taking a few deep breaths. Helena took the chance to compose herself as well, forcing thoughts of her own use of the time machine to the back of her mind, locking away all memories of the homicidal rage that had possessed her and the fierce joy she'd felt in subsequently chasing down her daughter's murderers. By the time Myka spoke again, Helena was perfectly attentive.

"It's not even that she's dead, or not just that," Myka said, brow furrowed as she tried to explain. "But - those shootings, even the man that I had to kill, they were - there were forms," she said at last. "Forms and paperwork to fill out, and interviews with my superiors, and procedure! There's no procedure here! How do I fill out a form for accidentally stabbing someone and turning them into a glass statue, oh, and by the way, I wasn't even in my own body, I was five decades in the past?"

She slumped back, laughing a little at her own absurdity. "I don't know how to process it," she admitted, voice so soft Helena had to strain to hear it.

Helena smiled, moved by the innocence that still shone so clearly within the other woman. "Ah, Myka," she said, freeing one hand to caress Myka's cheek. Myka leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, and Helena gave in to her impulse. Leaning forward, she brushed her mouth against Myka's.

Myka gasped softly and Helena drew back, then kissed her again, still chastely, pulling away before she could be tempted too far. 

"Tell me," Helena said hoarsely, before Myka could speak. "Tell me what happened. It may not be the same as filling out paperwork. But if it will help? I am more than willing to listen." She shrugged, faking detachment. Working at the Warehouse was bound to erode even the brightest of souls, but if she could do anything to keep Myka's from tarnishing, she would.

Myka blinked, focusing. A shy smile bloomed on her lips. "Um. Okay, yeah. It might. And, Helena?" She darted in and kissed Helena, waiting just long enough for the heat of her mouth to leave Helena feeling bereft when she pulled back.

"Thanks for listening," Myka said, her eyes sparkling. 

"It is my very great pleasure," Helena said sincerely. Taking Myka's hands again, she swallowed back the bitterness that filled her at the thought of what Myka's future might bring. With the taste of Myka's lips lingering on hers, she forced herself to concentrate instead on the pleasures of their present.


	5. Modern Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Modern Life"  
> Prompt #16: During their morning rituals.  
> Takes place after 2.09, "Vendetta."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, I've moved continents since the last time I posted one of these. Apologies; have some porn to make up for the wait. ;)

Myka loved watching Helena learn new things about the modern world. Part of her felt some obscure sense of guilt, as if she were eavesdropping on a private conversation or, in some cases, fetishizing Helena's ignorance, but she kept watching nevertheless. It wasn't the technology that truly captured Helena's interest, though Claudia worked tirelessly to bring her up to speed on the newest developments. It was the smaller, more human discoveries that intrigued Helena, and Myka loved seeing them through her eyes.

It had started at Tamalpais University; Helena's delight in the post-it notes in Philip's dorm room and her desire to share her discovery had startled Myka out of her instinctive distrust of the other woman. No one could be all bad, she thought, if post-its could make them smile like that.

Since moving into Leena's, Helena's attention had been caught by the oddest things. Many of them were unexpected and each one revealed another facet of Helena's personality. Myka understood her interest in the ballpoint pen; any writer who'd had to deal with quills would be impressed. But to spend more time examining the remote than the television itself? Myka had found her one night, standing alone in the darkened parlour and contemplating the small device. She'd meant to move on, but Helena had looked up suddenly and caught her eye.

"Ingenious," she said softly, setting the remote on the table. "Imagine, Myka, being so dedicated to sloth as to spend countless man-hours in the creation of such a thing, only to avoid getting up to change the channel." She had laughed, then, and brushed past Myka on her way out of the room, and Myka had been torn between marvelling at Helena's thought processes and breathing in the scents of metal and lavender that always seemed to cling to her. While Helena was fascinated by everyday life, Myka was becoming more and more fascinated by Helena.

When Myka bumped into Helena in the hallway the next morning, the lavender was nearly overwhelming; it billowed in steamy clouds out of the bathroom and around Helena's towel-clad form. Myka tripped over the rug and nearly dropped her own towel at Helena's feet. "Sorry," she said, blushing and trying not to stare at the way Helena's hair clung dripping to her shoulders and neck.

"Actually, I ought to apologize to you, in case I've not left you any hot water." Helena glanced approvingly at the bathroom door and smiled. "Modern plumbing has certainly improved by leaps and bounds." The towel barely stretched to mid-thigh; her feet left damp prints on the hardwood floor.

Myka mumbled something noncommittal and darted into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She leaned against it and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down; instead, the scent of lavender brought her senses to full alert.

 _Stop it, Myka,_ she told herself firmly, stripping out of her pyjamas and turning the shower on. She needed to work with Helena, not turn into a babbling idiot every time the other woman walked by. Even if their exchanges sometimes slid over the line of what Myka considered work-appropriate...

No. She turned her face up into the spray, determined to wash the image of Helena's bare legs out of her head. Her skin tingled at the heat.

The shower jets beat rhythmically against her scalp; eyes shut, she reached up to adjust the spray to the strength she needed to wash her thick hair. Her hand wrapped around the shaft of the showerhead and she froze: her mind presented her, unbidden, with a picture of Helena naked against the wall, head tipped back, and the showerhead directed between her legs. The image was shocking in its specificity; Myka jerked backwards, eyes flying open.

 _I've not left you any hot water... modern plumbing has certainly improved,_ Helena whispered in her memory, and Myka shuddered, arousal rushing through her.

Now that the idea had presented itself to her, she couldn't erase it. Her brain ruthlessly set out a logical argument: certainly Helena, with her inventor's mind and her insatiable curiosity, would have explored all the possibilities of this new technology too. And had she, maybe, looked just a little more relaxed than usual, more flushed than even the heat of the shower could account for? This early in the morning, was there even anything to smile about, much less to provoke the satisfied smirk that Helena had been sporting?

Myka's hair hung heavy against her back. She pushed it off her face and drew her hand down over her neck and the slope of her breasts, tracing the path of the water that spilled down her body; she remembered the gleam of Helena's damp skin in the hallway. With her other hand, she unhooked the showerhead.  
Swallowing, she leaned back against the wall. The tiles pressed into her shoulders. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of the water hitting her stomach, imagining how it would feel against her clit. Her breath caught and she wondered: had Helena imagined? Or just... done it?

Just done it, she decided, and dropped her hand lower, parting her legs.

The water pulsed in waves against her clit and she moaned softly. Her head thunked back against the wall and she cupped her breast, rolling her thumb over the nipple. Her legs shook and she breathed in the intoxicating smell of lavender.

 _Helena_ , she thought, Helena and all that barely-controlled sensuality set free. She consciously summoned the image of Helena again, lost in her own pleasure; this time, though, she added herself there too, and a smile on Helena's lips that spoke of her success in capturing Myka's attention.

The Helena in her head caressed her stomach, drew her fingers across her lips, finally had to press her hand against the wall to hold herself up. Myka mirrored the movements of her imagination, shivering helplessly, all the while trying to keep her other hand steady. The water was just the right side of too hot; she could feel sweat beading at her temple. Her hips twisted against the wall as she concentrated on her fantasy. Helena would put on a show for her, proud and teasing all at once as she brought herself to orgasm without letting Myka touch her.

Helena would open her eyes and let Myka watch as she came, gasping, drawing out every last moment of sensation before holding out her hand in invitation.

With that thought, Myka gave in. The showerhead clattered to the ground as she threw out her other hand to keep her balance; her feet squeaked against the tub and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her orgasm was a burst of heat in her belly, pulsing outward like the waves from the showerhead until she felt it to the tips of her fingers. She cupped her hand between her legs, the echo of her pulse throbbing against her palm. The same smug, self-satisfied smile she'd seen Helena wear slowly curved her lips.

Someone pounded on the bathroom door and she jumped.

"Hey! Hurry it up in there! Some of us hafta pee!" Pete yelled.

Myka scrambled to hang the showerhead back up. "Keep your pants on!" she yelled back, then paused. "No, _really_ , Pete, keep 'em on!"

She washed quickly, ignoring the trembling in her legs, and stepped out of the shower, twisting her hair up in a tight bun. It would have to do; no time left to wash it, much less let it dry. She wrapped herself up in her towel and darted out the door, letting Pete barrel in behind her.

Back in her room, she dried off absently, still cocooned in a cloud of contentment. One idea stood out in her mind. Helena had been sharing all the things she found to love in her new world. Maybe, Myka thought, smiling, it was time to return the favour.


End file.
